#orb fuzz

[adamk201]

Draw Palette (KFC) hugging Fuzz (ORB)

[zendiooo]

AAAAA

request!!

is Loop or Fuzz from ORB ok? (orb is so super cool!!)

i like this guy hes cool (sorry if this is not the best this is the first drawing i've actually put effort into in a while LOL)

[galactaknightyaoi]

When I first got into Kirby, I didn't expect to like, actually get into it. I thought it'd be like any other hyperfixation I'd had up to that point, that it would go away within a few months and I'd never think about it again.

Given I was so deeply in denial, I didn't care about being fully accurate and had some stuff that was really goofy and/or underdeveloped and unexplained. Stuff I'd made up to just work for the limited time I would be there.

Still, I came up with a few headcanons that I got attached to, and when I started realizing this was here to stay, I still chose to be stubborn and had to work backwards to keep these stupid headcanons, but adapt them into something a bit more fitting and polished.

It led to some cool stuff, like for example, my orbs aren't very magical, this was something I had settled on early on. But after I got invested, I had to think about what that actually meant and the implications of it like, how can they do this without magic? And what about that? What about this canon thing, how do I explain it?

I found decent enough explanations for all of these. But as a result of my unserious beginnings and continued stubborness, now I get really embarrassed at the time to actually talk about my headcanons and the stuff I've come up with.

Because what do you mean your Galacta Knight is half-dragon?

[thejoyofviolentmovement]

New Video: ORB Shares Trippy Motorik Groove-Driven "You Do"

New Video: ORB Shares Trippy Motorik Groove-Driven "You Do" @FuzzClub @forcefieldpr

The members of Geelong, Australia-based outfit ORB — Zak Olsen (vocals, guitar, bass), David Gravolin (guitar, bass) and Jamie Harner (drums) — have had a lengthy career, starting in earnest with a lengthy stint in their first band as teenagers, The Frowning Clouds. Since starting ORB, the Aussie trio have released two albums, 2017’s Neutrality and 2018’s The Space Between, which they supported…

[moonchild9350]

Sweet Mornings

Summary: morning sex with Chan after he’s been away on tour.

Pairing: idol!Chan x fab!reader

Genre: established relationship, fluff, smut-18+MDNI

Word Count: 1.4k

Warnings: somniphilia, handjob, kissing, p in v penetration, creampie (don’t), cockwarming

Notes: wrote this in the early morning hours. They’re disgustingly in love lol

If you enjoyed, consider a like, reboot, comment as it keeps me motivated 🤍

Please do not copy, translate, modify, or repost my work elsewhere without my permission. ©moonchild9350 (2024).

Chan is back.

That’s what runs through your head, as you open your eyes from sleep, blinking into the early morning sunlight that’s pouring through the windows.

You feel a warm body next to yours, their arms wrapped snuggly around you, caging you in so your bodies mold perfectly together. You feel his warm breath on your neck as he peacefully slumbers, actually sleeping for once.

You’ll tease him about it later and he’ll go on to say it’s because he’s back at home with you, his love, his comfort.

You slowly maneuver yourself so you’re facing him, silently chuckling at how his arms are still wrapped tightly around you.

You take the moment to gaze at your boyfriend, view him undisturbed in the morning hours. A smile graces your face as you see the sun has highlighted his features, his eyelids seeming almost translucent as it shines on his skin, allowing you to see the faintest blue of his veins. His eyelashes flutter as he dreams what you hope are good dreams and hopefully filled with you.

His hair is haphazardly a mess, something that has always tickled you, as he always looked like a train wreck when he first woke up. He’d whine when you’d tease him and then press a kiss to his lips to silence him which he always accepted.

His lips are slightly parted, his breath fanning out evenly signaling he is in a deep slumber.

Staring at him you feel a tingle, an ache that starts to form, soft and gentle at first. You take a breath and let it out, as a small trickle of slick leaks out of your pussy.

You reach your hand towards his face, your fingers lightly dancing across his skin, as soft as a feather drifting through the wind. The pads of your fingers brush over his cheeks, feeling the peach fuzz, the ends of the strands barely bending at the disturbance.

The ache grows larger, settling in your core, the walls of your pussy clenching involuntarily. You feel almost an electric feeling settling in over your body, making each sensation you feel that much better.

You’re aware of your bare legs beneath the sheets, the fabric brushing against them with each movement, the way your shirt touches your nipples, the slight stimulation causing shivers to run down your spine.

In that moment you realize once more Chan is home. You’ve missed this, his presence, how he feels inside you. You’ve missed him.

You reach your hand below the sheets and touch his bulge, slightly hard in the early morning hours. You smile as you lean forward and press your lips to his, sighing as they mold to yours immediately, even though he’s still asleep.

The moment is soft and slow as you press your lips to his, not fully removing them, just wanting to feel them on yours after so long. With each press you give his cock a squeeze, the appendage hardening further with the pressure.

With your next shaky kiss, Chan’s eyes open, the brown orbs zeroing in on you. He closes his eyes once more, however this time he puts more into the kiss as his arms tighten around you even more.

“Baby,” you whisper, the syllable barely formed as you continue to kiss your lover. “Need you.”

You slide your palm faster and harder against his cock, feeling the wet fabric as his precum leaks out.

“Yeah?” Chan breathes, his fingers lightly tracing the fabric of your t shirt, causing you to arch slightly into him.

You push his boxers down, the fabric obeying until it hits the swell of his ass. You whine at the resistance, wanting to rid him of the offending agent as quickly as possible.

Chan chuckles at your struggle and at your desperation. He lifts his hips and you quickly slide them down, a soft sound falling from your lips as if you were purring.

You can feel him now, his cock hard and warm in your hand. You wrap your hand around the head, pushing a finger into his slit, listening as Chan hisses at the pressure.

He lets out a low moan not long after as you stroke his cock, hard but gentle. His fingers pull at your shirt, silently asking you to take it off.

You hesitantly release his cock and shuck your shirt off, your tits now bare for his viewing pleasure, your nipples hardening in the cold air. You slide your panties down your legs as well, needing to have no further interruptions.

You snuggle up to Chan once more, your hand finding his cock again. You stroke him faster this time, his precum aiding in the glide, a soft slick sound echoing in the room as your hand slides up and down.

“Y/n, y/n, baby,” Chan whispers out and then whimpers as the pleasure courses through him. He missed this feeling, the only one you can bring him.

You smile at his turmoil, your slick now steadily leaking, coating your folds and your thighs. You kiss him again, your walls clenching as he lets out a growl deep within his chest.

Before you can fully register, you’re on your back, your head hitting the soft pillows, as you let out a huff. Your hands reach out to touch his arms, your eyes seeking out his.

Chan nudges your legs open, so he can fit more easily between them. His eyes stay on yours as he grabs his cock, bringing the head to your soaking folds.

He lets out a shaky breath at the feeling of your warmth, a feeling he’s missed over the last few months. He knows you feel the same, as your fingers dig into his biceps, your lips slightly parted as you breathe in anticipation of finally feeling him, your tits heaving with each breath.

You both are a mess, as your moans ring out throughout the room, Chan’s cock finally sinking into your warmth. You whine at the sting, your walls slowly spreading, stretching, after not having anything inside for months.

Chan is nice and easy, knowing it’s been a while. He knows his cock is big and your hole tiny. He pushes in inch by inch as you let out each breath until he’s flush against you, your walls keeping him in with how tight you’re wrapped around his cock. He waits a moment, waiting on the signal from you that he can move.

You steady your breaths, the feeling of him inside you too much, that pleasurable ache growing with each passing moment as he lays there cradled in your arms.

“Channie, move…please,” you beg, your fingers playing with the hairs on the back of his neck.

Chan withdraws his hips and rocks them back into yours, coaxing a low moan out of you. You wrap your arms tighter around him, his neck buried in yours as he rocks, rocks, and rocks.

The pleasure is heightened, after not feeling him for so long, the warm sensation building quickly in your core as he massages your walls.

Chan fucks you softly but deeply, savoring this moment of early morning bliss. You mewl out as he shifts his hips ever so slightly, angling his cock to drag along your sweet spot, causing your toes to curl and legs to tighten around him.

Both of your moans accent the quiet of the room, the only other sounds being the evidence of how wet you are for Chan and the shift of the fabric as it travels over your bodies.

You’re stuck to him, a thin sheen of sweat forming over your bodies, as Chan continues to make love to you. You squeal as the new position allows the hairs on his pelvis to apply just enough sensation against your clit, the bud teased with each thrust.

The warmth builds, growing larger, threatening to spill. You can tell Chan is close too, as his breathing becomes more erratic, his hips not as rhythmic as a few moments ago.

You clutch onto him more, pressing your tits into his chest, wrapping your legs around his ass as you focus on reaching your high, your core feeling like it is on fire.

With a few more shaky breathes, you let out a loud moan, Chan’s name on your lips like a prayer as you release around his cock, your walls spasming, clenching around him. You can hear him groan and then let out a grunt, as he spills within you, the feeling of his cum coating your walls causing you to moan.

Your both a mess of sweaty bodies as you lay there, neither one of you moving except for the rise of your chests as you breath to come down from your highs.

The sun rises higher in the sky as time passes, the light brighter as it shines through the room. It’s quiet, except for the sound of Chan’s beating heart as you’re now resting on his chest.

His cock is still buried within you, soft and warm, his cum still buried within you. You lay there in his embrace, snuggled to him bathing in the post orgasmic afterglow.

You feel the threat of sleep linger over you, your body exhausted after the activities of the morning. You start to slip, your mind slowly leaving and entering into that dream world that has been your haven the last few months.

However, this time you enter into a different sleep, your mind understanding that your dreams have come true.

Chan is home.

Taglist: @jehhskz @jeonginsleftcheek @simpforleeknaur @armystay89 @palindrome969 @slut4hee @ivydoesit23 @amarecerasus @kaysungshine @fun-fanfics @baby-stay92 @velvetmoonlght

[these-lovely-monsters]

The Sweetest Nectar

[NSFW | 18+]

Characters: m!mothman x f!reader

Content: aphrodisiac, oral (f!receiver), p in v, mating, claiming

A/N: In classic fashion, this started out as drabble and ended up being waaayyy longer than intended. Oops 🤷‍♀️

#19 Wings from @ozzgin’s Monstertober 2024 prompt list

⋆ ⋅ ☽ ⋆ ☾ ⋅ ● ⋅ ☽ ⋆ ☾ ⋅ ● ⋅ ☽ ⋆ ☾ ⋅ ● ⋅ ☽ ⋆ ☾ ⋅ ⋆

You've been working the graveyard shift at the mall for a few months now. Whenever you're on break, you like to go down to the park nearby and watch the moon and stars twinkling above. The vastness of it all is mesmerizing and you've always wondered what it's like up there in the sky. 

Tonight is no different as you huddle into your coat, trying to stay warm in the cool night air while munching on a sandwich. Just like every other night this week, you spot the pair of glowing red eyes watching you from the darkness of the trees. When you first saw them, you were terrified and your heart nearly stopped. You could just barely make out a massive figure hunched in the darkness and you knew, instinctually, it was a monster of some kind. 

But as you held your breath, waiting for the creature to attack, they never did. They just stayed there, watching from a distance. After a while, you figured they didn’t mean you any harm and decided to let them be. Just because they’re a monster doesn’t mean they’re dangerous. You’ve seen what true monsters look like and it has nothing to do with being inhuman. Soon, you grew to find their watchful presence comforting in the lonely nights.  

Tonight, you’re feeling particularly bold and decide that it’s time to say hi to your silent monster. Setting down your sandwich, you wave to the shadows and call out for them to join you. The bright crimson orbs blink for a moment and then disappear. You wait patiently until they reappear again a minute later.  

“You…want me to come closer?” A deep, hesitant voice emanates from the shadows. The sound is nothing like you’ve ever heard before. It’s inhuman and has a buzzing quality as if it’s coming from a broken stereo. 

“Yeah,” you say, patting the seat next to you. “Come sit with me.” 

The eyes blink again and you see the faint outline of its head cock to the side. Then, ever so slowly, the figure starts to creep forward, easing out of the shadows and into the bright moonlight. 

You gape in awe at the giant masculine creature that stands before you. He has a thick chest with a tapered waist and long spindly legs that bend backwards at the knees, much like a bird’s. He also appears to be covered in a sort of black fuzz that you instantly want to run your hands through. When he cocks his head to the side again, you notice two feather-like antennae bobbing above him.  

Mothman! You think, not entirely surprised that he’s actually real. Even though you’re not afraid of him, a thrill runs through you at being so close to such a legendary cryptid. He’s also so much more beautiful than you thought he would be based on all the depictions you’ve seen. 

When he just stands there staring at you, you hold out your hand, beckoning him closer. You hear a little intake of surprise come from him before he tentatively approaches the picnic table and sits down beside you. You watch in fascination as his wide mouth splits open to reveal several rows of razor sharp teeth in a terrifying smile. 

“So, how long have you been watching me?” You ask, smirking at the way his antennae flatten back on his head as he looks away. 

“A while…” He replies vaguely. 

You smile at his sheepishness. “Hmm, have you now?” He just jerks his shoulder in an awkward shrug, still unable to meet your gaze. Deciding to cut him some slack, you change the subject. “Hey, can you fly?” 

“Of course!” he exclaims, puffing up his chest.  

With a woosh, a pair of massive wings spread out wide behind him as he shows them off. You can’t help but marvel at the gorgeous patterns. There are two sets on each side, one higher than the other. Black and brown rippling lines cover the edges and each wing has an eye-like circle in the middle. When he flutters them, it appears as if the eyes are winking at you. 

You laugh at his antics as you reach out to trace a finger along one of his wings. “What’s it like to fly? To be up there in the sky?” 

He shudders at your touch, staring down at you with an intense look in his eyes. Realizing what you were doing, you quickly pull your hand back and he exhales softly. 

Shaking his head slightly as if remembering your question, he asks, “Would you like me to show you?” 

Gasping in excitement, you nod eagerly. Without hesitation, he scoops you up in his arms, wrapping your legs around his waist as he tucks you into his body. Large, slender hands grip you tight, pinpricks of pain sending shivers down your spine as claw-tipped fingers dig into your skin. You cling to his neck and bury your face into his chest. He’s unbelievably soft and warm and you think you could probably stay here forever if he’d let you. 

“Hold on tight,” is all he says before he leaps into the air, pumping his wings with enormous force and lifting you both into the air. 

Within moments, you’re soaring high up in the sky, the wind whipping your hair as the town below you shrinks in the distance. Your shout of excitement gets lost in the roar of the wind and your cheeks burn from how wide you’re smiling. He looks down at you, a twinkle in his eyes as he soaks in your joy. 

You fly together for what feels like hours as you watch the land below whizzing by, the people and buildings like tiny figurines on a playset. Eventually, you start to shiver from the cold, your clothes growing damp from the moisture in the icy wind. He seems to notice and begins to veer off towards a nearby mountain. 

Wondering where he’s taking you, you hold on tightly and watch as he begins to descend to a small cabin nestled in the mountainside forest. When he lands, he sets you down gently on the porch and then takes your hand, leading you inside. It’s a warm, and cozy space, filled with old wooden furniture and mismatched decor. 

He sets about lighting a fire as you sit shivering on the couch. When the hearth is blazing, he grabs a blanket and places it next to you. Slowly, and with gentle hands, he begins removing your cold, wet clothes. He looks at you, pausing as if waiting for you to push him away. But you have no intention of stopping him, utterly bewitched by this terrifying yet sweet creature and desperately wanting to see what he’ll do. 

Once he has all your clothes off, he drapes the warm blanket over your shoulders. Then he carefully picks you up off the couch and lays you on the plush fur rug in front of the fire. When he leans back as if to move away, you grab his hand, pulling him down until he’s kneeling between your spread legs. 

For a moment, he just stares down at you, watching the firelight flicker across your naked skin. Red and yellow flames illuminate your curves in a mesmerizing dance.  

“Are you sure you want this, little flower?” he asks in a voice that sounds strained. 

“Yes,” you whisper on a breathy moan, “I want you.” And it’s true. From the moment you saw him, you were intrigued. And now your body is buzzing from the thrill of flying, needing an outlet for all that excited energy. 

When he takes a deep breath and exhales it slowly, you gape at him as two long appendages gradually extend from the depths of the fuzz at his hips. They reach out and brush against your inner thighs and your legs twitch at the sensation. They’re covered in soft hairs and it tickles as they swirl around your skin. 

Soon, a tingling sensation spreads along your legs and then the rest of your body, making your muscles relax as warmth spreads through you. The room begins to swim around you and you grab hold of his arm to keep from floating away. The warmth of his body and the softness of his fuzz is like an anchor in the fog. At the sight of Mothman looming over you with lust filling his eyes, your pussy tightens in need and you groan, squirming on the blanket beneath him. 

His mouth opens on a pant as his chest rises and falls rapidly. As the two appendages at his hips begin to retreat into his body, a long, straw-like tongue unfurls from his parted lips and he bends down to drink up the sweat gathering at the hollow of your neck. A groan escapes him and he quickly shuffles downward, gripping your thighs and spreading them wide for his shoulders to fit between your legs.  

Without hesitation his tongue dips into your dripping core, sucking up your juices greedily. “Mmmh,” he growls in that buzzing voice, “you taste like the sweetest nectar.”  

You moan at the vibrations that ripple from his tongue against your entrance. He traces it upwards and begins to twirl the narrow tip around your clit, making you writhe at the intense, concentrated stimulation. The tip flicks at the sensitive bud, pressing and swirling around it with unerring precision. The zaps of pleasure mix with the weightless feeling of your body in a heady cocktail. 

After a few moments of teasing your clit, he moves his slender tongue back inside your pussy, plunging deeper this time until it flicks against your g-spot. You gasp and jerk at the foreign sensation. His tongue isn’t nearly girthy enough to give you the fullness you so desperately crave but the feeling of the probing, sucking tip curling around your inner walls is just as erotic. 

Soon, he moves back to your clit, repeating his earlier ministrations before returning to your pussy once more. He does this over and over, spending just enough time at each spot to bring you close to the brink before he switches back again. Before long you’re completely wound up, gasping and desperate to come. 

Between the warmth of the fire, the tingling along your skin, and his torture on your clit and g-spot, your body feels like a tightly wound coil, ready to explode. When he reaches up to pinch a nipple between two sharp claws, you do just that. Your back arches off the floor as your orgasm crashes into you and you cry out in ecstasy. Waves of pleasure wash over you as he draws the orgasm out as long as he can until you eventually slump to the floor, twitching with aftershocks. 

As you start to come back down, he slows his movements, gently lapping up the wetness that’s coursing down your thighs.  

“Mmm,” he hums against your sensitive core. “I don’t think I’ll ever be able to get enough of your sweet nectar”. 

Before you’ve fully caught your breath, he’s climbing back over you, nipping and sucking at your stomach, chest, and neck as if wanting to taste your pleasure everywhere. You moan at the sensations on your hot and overstimulated skin. When he leans back to sit on his heels, you gasp at the sight before you. 

Where there was once just fuzz, a massive length protrudes from his groin. It’s sort of like a cock but nothing like a human’s or anything you’ve ever seen before. It’s long and girthy and the shape is gnarled with bumps and whorls along its surface, almost like a dark gray tree branch. Your core clenches in desire as you watch his slender black fingers wrap around the length, stroking up and down a few times until a bead of sap-like precum wells up from a slit in the tip. 

With one hand, he holds your hip steady while the other guides his glistening tip to your entrance. Locking his bright ruby eyes with yours, he slowly pushes inside you, letting you feel every ridge and bump of his unusual cock slide along your walls. His lust-filled groan joins yours as you grip the furs above your head, gasping for air at the feeling of your walls being stretched impossibly wide. 

When he’s fully seated he pauses, letting you both catch your breaths for a moment. He places both forearms on either side of your head and leans down to press his forehead against yours, his warm exhales ghosting against your face.  

“So fucking tight,” he grits out, the strain of holding back evident in his voice. 

When your body begins to adjust to his size, your muscles relax and your pussy begins fluttering around him, clenching in need. 

He snarls at the sensation and quickly pulls out almost to the tip, then slams back in again in one swift motion. Your cries of pleasure echo against the walls as he begins to fuck you roughly into the rug, setting a brutal pace. With every thrust the gnarled bumps on his cock drag against your walls and your eyes roll back in your head. 

The wet sounds of your bodies colliding fill the small space as he takes what he wants from you. Each thrust is so forceful that your body begins to slide up the rug. He sits back on his heels again, lifting your hips up to wrap your legs around his waist. Digging his sharp claws into your ass, he uses the leverage to bury himself even deeper than before. 

With the new angle, his cock hits your g-spot perfectly on every thrust and your cries turn into sobs at the overwhelming bliss and you squeeze your eyes shut. Between the bolts of electricity shooting up your spine and the pricks of pain from his claws buried in your skin, you hurtle towards your orgasm.  

Feeling your walls beginning to clamp down, he snarls, “Look at me.” Your eyes flutter open and he pins you with his gaze. “There you are. Such a pretty petal.” 

At his words the dam bursts and you careen over the edge, your screams filling the room as you take him with you. He roars in pleasure and his hips begin to stutter. Your walls ripple, milking him as his hot cum spurts inside you, filling you up until it seeps out around his throbbing cock. Your orgasms drag on for what feels like forever and you get lost in the intoxicating haze of ecstasy. 

When you finally drift back down from your high, he slumps down on top of you, draping his large form over you but taking care not to crush you with his weight. After several moments of contented silence, you almost drift off to sleep from the warmth of his body and the crackling fire. But you’re roused from your half-conscious state when he sits up and gathers you in his arms, tucking you into his lap as he leans back against the foot of the couch. 

With a rustle, his wings unfurl from his back and drape around you, cocooning you in a soft embrace as a plume of powder puffs into the air. You watch as it drifts in the firelight and settles on your skin.  

Running your finger through the powder coating your arm, you turn to look at him in curiosity. “What is this?” 

Sheepishly he replies, “It’s a…mating dust.” He drops your gaze as he looks into the fire. “For creatures like me, wings are very sensitive and intimate and we only allow mates to touch them. The dust is a way of marking you so that others know who you belong to…” 

Mating dust? 

You should balk at the idea of being marked like that but you can’t seem to bring yourself to be annoyed. In fact, you kind of like the idea of belonging to someone. You took comfort in his watchful presence all those lonely nights in the dark. His soft and gentle caresses. The way he looked at you as if you were the most precious thing in the world. The way he fucked you with a wild and desperate need… 

At your silence, his antennae flatten along his head again and he tenses. “I’m sorry, I should have asked but I couldn’t help it—” 

“Don’t be.” You say, placing a hand on his chest as you nuzzle into his warmth. “I just wish I had dust of my own to give you.” 

He relaxes and you look up at him, your heart warming at the grin that spreads wide across his face and the way his antennae flutter in delight. 

“Don’t worry. You’ve given me something far more precious.”  

Pink stains your cheeks as you smile, his words sending a flutter through your stomach. Resting your head against him, you listen to the steady beat of his heart, marveling at this beautiful creature holding you in his arms. Soon, the slow rise and fall of his chest begins to lull you into sleep.  

When a big yawn splits your face, he strokes a hand down your back and whispers in your ear, “Rest now, my sweet blossom.” 

With that, you drift off into a peaceful sleep, dreaming of soaring wings and scarlet eyes. 

Tip Jar :)

[luverine]

ᖭི༏ᖫྀ Luan (Mothman) x fem! reader

How Luan got his name. // nsfw // MDNI // scratching // breeding // cockwarming // no proof read // word count: 0.8k

“You like the moon?” you ask softly, pointing towards the glowing orb that casts a pale light, making the cold night air shimmer.

The creature beside you lets out a soft chirp, a high-pitched sound that seems to tell agreement.

You hum, taking in his ethereal form- tall, dark, and lean with sleek fur. His eyes, wide and the deepest shade of ruby, reflect the moonlight. He’s gorgeous.

“You’re kind of like the moon, ya know,” you murmur, your gaze trailing over him. “Lunar, dark, quiet… breathtaking.”

A shuddering breath escapes your lips as he steps closer, the heat radiating from his body enveloping you despite the chill in the air. He lowers his head so that it's above yours, warmth seeping into your skin.

He traces his clawed fingers along the curve of your neck to your cheek, it tickles making you giggle. Turning to face him fully, you rise on tiptoe and nuzzle into the soft, downy fur of his neck.

“You always feel so nice. You’re always so… magnificent.” You let out a quiet laugh. “just like the-.”

A sudden thought brightens your eyes. “Luna! That should be your name.”

He tilts his head, a deep, rumbling whine vibrating through his chest. He glances between you and the moon, a silent request for something that feels sincere.

“Okay, okay,” you soothe, rubbing your thumb gently against his cheek. “Something more personal, more… you.”

——

The next morning, you immerse yourself in your small, beloved library, pouring over historical texts and old-time lore. Mythology and folklore have always been a passion of yours. Page after page, book after book, until you stumble upon the literature “Luan Zhi”- beautiful, virtuous wings… also referred to the moon.

“Perfect!” you exclaim, feeling a rush of excitement. This name would suit him perfectly. You can’t wait to share it with him!

——

That evening, you find him perched in his usual spot. Your fingers brush over his wings, marveling at the blend of black and white fuzz that feels softer than silk.

“I found a name for you,” you say, your voice barely above a whisper. He’s already watching you, those dark ruby eyes gleaming with curiosity.

He lets out a soft, encouraging chirp, urging you to continue. You can see the anticipation flicker in his gaze.

“Luan,” you say with a smile. “Wings of the moon… my Luan.”

His eyes widen, sparkling like diamonds as he absorbs the meaning. In one fluid motion, he pulls you against him, his face pressing into the crook of your neck. His hold is tight, desperate, as if he’s afraid you’ll slip away.

A deep, resonant purr emanates from his chest as he breathes you in, his mind clouded with need. He’s intoxicated by the warmth of your scent, memories of being inside you flaring up with an almost painful intensity. His claws sink into your sides, drawing a soft yelp from your lips.

Luan pauses, concern flitting across his face as he checks if you’re unharmed. You nod, fingers threading through the thick fur at his nape. Your cheeks burn with arousal, a slick heat pooling between your thighs.

“Luan,” you gasp, your voice trembling with need. “I need you…”

His length, already hardening, presses insistently against you. Without hesitation, you peel away the fabric that separates your bodies, baring yourself to him. His fur spikes with arousal as he takes in the sight, his claws gently tracing over your wet folds, drawing out soft whimpers from your lips.

You’re grinding desperately against his touch, soaking his fingers with your slick. It’s too much for both of you; your desire has reached a high. With a trembling hand, you grasp his thick, curved shaft, guiding the pointed tip to your entrance. Slowly, you sink down onto him, the stretch of his girth drawing a moan from deep in your throat.

His claws dig into your hips, pulling you down onto his lap as he ruts up into you, the force making you gasp. Your chests are pressed flush together, your nails tangling in the plush fur at his neck. His thrusts are urgent, each one driving you higher, closer to the edge.

“I’m going to come- oh, gods, please, Luan, come inside me!” Your words are muffled against his fur as you clench around him, your climax crashing over you in a wave of bliss. He groans, a guttural sound, as he spills deep within you, his grip never wavering, holding you in place to fill you completely.

Breathless, you collapse against him, your head resting on his shoulder. “I love you, Luan,” you murmur softly, glazed eyes fluttering shut. His arms remain wrapped around you, keeping his softening length buried in you, possessive and gentle, as if he could keep you safe from the world forever.

And in this moment, in the quiet of the night beneath the watchful glow of the moon, you know he will never let you go.

A/N: Welp that’s Luan idk what else to do for him… anyways likes, reblogs, comments appreciated ᖭི༏ᖫྀ

[blackgirl-galactica]

ASTRO OBSERVATIONS by Oceanbaby888 🔥🐦‍🔥🛸✨

Just my thoughts & observations! Please do not steal my work or repost without credit. Thank you!

While Saturn, Sun, and Pluto are normally associated with power, I have observed the power of Mercury. To know how to manipulate and bend language to your advantage is definitely a skill! We forget that Mercury also rules our daily lives, and when a Mercurial person knows how to find those advantages through language, daily life, etc is not a force to be reckoned with! 💚🤖

I think it is so funny how during the Mercury in Aries transit there have been multiple diss tracks & public rap beefs in the music industry. Notably Kendrick Lamar vs. Drake but also Suki vs. JT. Especially with the North Node currently in Aries. If you postion the day Kendrick released "Euphoria," at 12pm in Santa Monica, CA (the location of Interscope Records), there was a Mercury-North Node conjunction in Aries at an orb of about 3°!!! The same when Kendrick released "Not Like Us" but at an orb of 5°!! Crazy work! 🤯😯

I think Virgos/Scorpios/heavy Plutonian placements (including MC) would make amazing data analysts and data scientists. If you are ever looking for a career that will call for finding patterns and digging deep into data and extracting some finds from it, I think this would be good. These placements are quite patient when it comes to finding patterns in my opinion. 📈

A Pisces that can separate their emotional state vs logical state is also a force not to be reckoned with. Really as crafty as a Gemini (sorry Geminis but y’all can be crafty 🤷🏾‍♀️). Please never underestimate the power of a Pisces that can snap out of their emotional fuzz.

We have to commend the fact that mutable signs are so adaptable to life. As I grow older I notice life is just about change, change, and change.

I’ve noticed that Mercurians really don’t pick sides, I infer that comes from Mercury being the planet ruling neutrality. I think it’s less apparent with Geminis given they are air signs (who are known to thrive off being social), but more apparent with Virgos. 🙅🏾‍♀️

For a Mercury-Saturn aspect time is usually of the essence. 😂😂😂 Not saying they aren’t punctual, but I’ve noticed (myself included) we are very particular about how we spend our time. We don’t like our time being wasted at all and will leave people behind if needed.

🧡🧡🧡

[k-4-ni]

4 WHOLE HOURS (NSFW)

Ever think about what DICK GRAYSON does when you're off to work?

Just dick being a dick (and a pervert)

When he builds up the courage to finally peel his eyes open, hissing through clenched teeth as the sun seeps through the curtains, it feels like it is poking his eyes out.

When he looks over his shoulder, expecting to wake up to your limp and sleepy state, expecting to snag a whiff of your expensive perfume that you insist on putting on before going to bed, expecting to catch a glimpse of your pretty complexion (that he came on multiple times the night before.)

But he didn't.

He found himself staring mindlessly at the vacant slot next to him, a harsh wave of bitter air spreading throughout his skin, his fingers lightly tracing over the wrinkles of the sheets— a trace of you before you left.

He hates— No, Abhors when you go to work, he understands that you have your problems and responsibilities to lay off but why was work so early in the morning? It's not like you'd get fired if you took a day off.

Dick pressed his lips into a tight frown, the realization of your absence dawning on him— the realization that you weren't going to join him in breakfast, or his daily run, or his daily 10-minute session of cuddling and oozing into your warmth, or—

Stop.

He'll be fine, it's not like you're gone for—4 hours.

4 whole hours, 240 whole minutes alone, waiting (im)patiently for you to come back home so he could tackle you to the floor and have a perfect excuse to fuck your brains out— And to jerk off to your panties.

He can't help it, he's the eldest son of Bruce Wayne, the one and only Batman himself, but he's one whiny orb of fuzz and sex when it comes to you, his precious girl, his moon and stars, his honey and his home— his tiny fleshlight he could pound into whenever he likes because he knows you'll be such a good girl and take it like one.

1 hour and a half into the dreadful waiting session as he already has your red-laced panties (his favourite pair) bunched up in his hands and smothered into his nose, Oh god— Your fucking scent.

His calloused hand jerks him off until his brain is absolute mush and his thighs tense and cramp as he feels his stomach coil with that familiar sensation of release, so close— on the rim, fumbling with each breathy word, your name spilling from his quivering lips, over and over again.

The base of his cock drooling with a white and milky ring, his reddened tip oozing pre-cum, wishing it was you and your warm tongue cleaning him up of his mess, his chubby balls pulling taut with each stroke, his brain all fuzzy and a putty mess of filthy thoughts and all sorts of dirty fantasies playing in his head.

One of them, feeling your silky walls tightening and grope around his meaty cock, his tip angry and bulging out with a deep red hue— evidence of his desperate edging as his hips bucked furiously against his fingers, a jolt of electricity surging through his bones— moans and moans dribbling from his lips, heavy breaths and whimpers as he near his blinding release, a sigh of pure bliss and a slimy layer of slick sweat trickling down his eyebrows and temples.

Oh, what he would do just to feel your tight cunt keeping his cock nice and warm, smooching your pelvis with each deep plunge and thrust of his hips.

He was too lost in his fantasies of you, too lost to realize he dribbled a gooey mess of his thighs and the sheets, his tongue hungry for the sweet nectar of sex.

There was no way he was making it.

And there was no way you were going to walk tomorrow.

[baldurs-gape]

Looooooong Road Home

Here was the thing; Astarion hadn't seen many Chosen in his long life. Then again, his haunts didn't usually include places that Chosen would opt to visit. His nocturnal nature forced him to only emerge during the night, when everything was hues of greys and despair. Despite not having laid eyes on a Chosen, he had heard stories, how their devotion and a God's favour warped their appearance. Part of him thought it was a load of rubbish. Then the Nautiloid happened.

Out in the sunlight, Astarion marvelled at all the colours, the heat that soaked into his scant fur. Most importantly, his string had been cut. The thread that always led back to Cazador was short, ending abruptly not too far in front of his nose. For the first time in 200 years he was a free worm-on-a-string. Nobody held the other end of his string, nobody dictated what he did.

Then he encountered the broken portal and met Gale of Waterdeep. Who looked like an ordinary, purple furby - minus the circular bare patch at the top of his stomach and a few delicate lines that were barely visible under his fuzz but still curled past his beak and up to his eye.

"You're a bit short for a Chosen of Mystra," Astarion had scoffed and Gale actually looked crestfallen at that.

"I used to be a lot longer, you know. Proportionally probably three times your length for your size."

"What happened?"

It was a tale for another time. Astarion's wait for it was as short as Gale himself. Dribs and drabs came out in conversation. Gale's constant need to be fed magical items because of the bald patch he called his 'orb'. It was a foolish endeavour that he pursued in the name of proving himself to Mystra, wanting to gain the ultimate length that matched hers. He wanted to be a God's equal. In a way, Astarion could respect that ambition.

As they travelled, Gale's magic grew, so did his length. At first it wasn't noticeable. Astarion could noodle past him without being detected on his hunts for blood. Except moving past Gale took longer and longer, which was when he realised that Gale was growing.

The orb was stabilised by the longest furby Astarion had ever seen. He could easily wrap around their campfire while munching on cheese with unashamed "yuuuuum yuuuuum" exclamations. If they ignored Mystra's demand that Gale wrap himself around the heart of the Absolute and squeeze until he ruptured the orb, things were actually quite fine.

Employing his stealthiest caterpiller crawl, Astarion thought he could avoid his campmates until a blue illusion of Gale popped into being next to his head and made him curl up in fright. The invitation to join Gale was strangely welcome. They gazed at the stars Gale had conjured into being and Astarion realised he could comfortably lie on Gale's back now and bask in his warmth without his nose or tail getting chilly.

The strange sense of pride Astarion had watching Gale in the Shadowcursed lands was unfamiliar and confusing. There was majesty and poise in the way Gale moved so confidently, cast spells. Facing off against Myrkul's avatar, Gale had encircled Astarion and kept him safe from the 'bone chill' that threatened to engulf him.

In Baldur's Gate, Gale had eagerly dragged him to Sorcerous Sundries where they encountered the abomination that was Lorroakan. Astarion had truly thought he'd seen everything until that moment. To see a furby, artificially longified through spells and constructs was disturbing in a way little else had been. They didn't have much time to shudder at the memories of artifical fur sloughing off the metal frame of a Gondian design. Other goals were to be pursued. Most importantly, lopping off the hand that puppeted Astarion.

Cazador had so many strings wrapped around him, it was a miracle he could still fly. But, as all sky dancers, he remained dangerous, no matter how encumbered. A lone string flapped loosely, undoubtedly the one that should have linked Astarion to him. Fighting him and his minions wasn't easy, the trolls and boglins put up a good fight. But, in the end, they fell to the vicious desperation of Astarion's friends.

Orin and Gortash were also defeated. Then came the netherbrain and all that entailed. Falling out of the sky, Astarion was glad Gale had looped around him, they crashed into the Chionthar together and resurfaced as one. Bedraggled, Astarion didn't immediately realise that his fur wasn't just drying out in the dawning sun's light but was burning. Pure white turned to singed black and he darted to the nearest place to hide and wait out the day. At least he could console himself that his string was now his own, nobody tugged it and he'd never let anyone wrap it around their figners ever again.

Of course Gale found him. And the pieces of Karsus' crown. Returning it to Mystra meant the orb was lifted and Gale was back to his full glory of longification. It was perfect. He curled up each evening and there was enough room on him for Astarion to nuzzle into the lush purple fur while Tara lounged next to him.

All in all, Astarion considered himself a very lucky worm-on-a-string. So much so that, despite his vows, he offered to tie his string to whatever Gale's furby equivalent was. The fond hum and rocking he got from Gale didn't quite make sense but the happy beak peck to the tip of his snoot did. There was no need to get tied to each other, their love was beyond that kind of requirement. Instead, they each got a golden belt to wear, inscribed with 'I long for you. Always.'

~~~~~~~~~

A huge thank you to @captainneedsnosleep for listening to my ramblings about Wormstarion and Longified Furby Gale! The art of Wormstarion and Longified Furby Gale spurred on the creation of this story. The less we say about Pogostick Withers and Mr. Bucket Gortash, the better. I'm not sure the world is ready for such things just yet.

[roman-golden-68]

A Golden Blessing, Day 1.

02/08/2025: All it took was an action and time. All it took was listening and responding. All it took was the trust between me and Ezan (@polo-drone-001) to bring about a change that would start a course of events that would change everything for me, and it all started with Ezan becoming my briefs. You see, in the Golden Team, some of the members have the unique ability to temporarily transform into the gear of another bro, and Ezan is one of those bros with that ability. However, Ezan had something planned, a blessing disguised as a trick, for his dear Roman. You see, Ezan (as seen below) has this ability to influence the genetic and physical make-up of a person when he is transformed into their gear or is in physical contact with them. Thus, Ezan planned to use this ability to give Roman his blessing. So, Ezan became Roman's briefs, and considering it was still in the twilight hours on that fateful Saturday, Roman paid no attention to his new, shiny golden briefs and just put them on. Everything was going to plan for Ezan.

You see, while Roman slept, Ezan began to get to work his blessing upon Roman. First, Ezan chose to influence the heart and soul of Roman's genetic composition, his golden orbs. With the penetration of Ezan's ability, Roman stirred in his sleep as Ezan deleted one by one all of Roman's white sperm cells. Once finished with the deletion of all of Roman's Caucasian sperm genes, he replaced them all with 100% Arabic influence, thus resulting in Roman's loads being Arabic loads and no longer Caucasian. However, Ezan didn't stop there, for he would continue to spread his influence cross Roman's junk. He would darken Roman's junk into a nice bronze color and instructed Roman's junk to produce quite the bit of steam and musk due to how over productive and hot his new Arab nuts were now. Additionally, Ezan had Roman's junk grown, making his donger growing thicker, veiner, juicer, and quite large indeed. If one were to observe Roman right now, they would think he stuff a large Sausage into his pants and two large, heavy, and swinging orange sized orbs beneath the sausage. None the less, as Roman slept, his entire complexation began to change. First, his skin grew darker, going from tanned, to light brown, to full on caramel colored. Additionally, swathes of black fuzz and hair sprouted across his body, with special focus on his chest, pits, treasure trail, and nether regions. With this new bronzed and hairy body, Roman produced quite the potent musk, reeking of sweat, masculinity, and with a hint of oceanic breeze. The hair atop his head would turn from a dirty blonde color to a solid coal black color and curl up before increasing in volume and length. His eyes would go from a baby blue to a nice deep brown. With the changing of Roman's eye color, a new Golden bro was born, but yet his name was not Roman. This new bro, one of Arabic complexation, composition, and genetics, was named Raheem. However, Raheem was not strong enough, yet, to properly overtake Roman's form. Thus, Raheem was stuck to the night shift, so to speak, where Roman controlled his body during the day, but Raheem took control during the night. However, Hamza (@goldenherc9 as seen below) had other plans.

[satrs]

Can’t feel my face - bllk x fem!Reader N°15

Tags; angst, insults, a SURPRISEEEEEEEEE(I can't help myself sorry), 2.7k.

"So, you and him, huh?" You turn to look at the driver, a smug smirk on his face. You noticed his smirk waver a bit once you hummed in approval, your eyebrow tugging up in curiosity. "Jealous?"

He chuckled in return. "Jealous she says." He inhales sharply, eyes focused on the road while one hand rests on his thigh, impatiently tapping it to convey that he truly is jealous. "You two ain't official yet, eh?"

You hum again, causing him to smile at your honesty. "Then there's nothing to be jealous about." You were curious. "And why is that?" He snickered, eyes drifting from the street for a second to eye you up and down, eyes halting at your clenched together thighs before his gaze rose up to your face again, his tongue poking the inside of his cheek. He shrugged his shoulders sarcastically, a grin on his features not wavering as he drove you to the establishment you both called your workplace.

"That asshole dragged you into this shit?" You tried to stir up a conversation, preparing yourself for your encounter with Reo. The male shrugged again, exhaling as he raised his eyebrows momentarily. "It is what it is. Can't do nothin' about it."

He noticed your head hanging low, trying to lighten the mood. "Look, I don't know what he did to you, but I'm more than willing to beat his ass for it. That servant of his too." A small chuckle rang his ears. "What about your job?"

He scoffed at your question as it was obvious what he'd say. Fuck the job and fuck Mikage too. If he seriously hurt you, he's willing to risk it. There are many other jobs he could look into. Hell, he made enough money in the past months to maybe even do his own business. His own legal boxing club. That has a nice ring to it.

"I got some backup."

【☆】★【☆】

Once you both enter the building, you notice the odd silence that surrounded the club. Oliver grew suspicious, eyebrows crinkling as he peeked his head down the stairs to listen in on any possible sounds - to no avail. He hummed, senses spiking to the top. This is weird. Even in early hours, the club is full of staff and-

His thoughts got interrupted by a small noise coming from the bar at the far back behind the curtains, cautiously shielding you as he took your hand in his, walking up to the spot in question. 

And there he was, Reo. Hair fuzzed as they go in all direction, his head laying in the palms of his hands as puffs of frustration leave his mouth. You both look at him, confusion dripping down your faces before you look to the ground, noticing a shattered glass, toxic liquor shining against the shards scattered along the floor.

“What the hell, Reo?”

The purple haired cranes his neck at the sound of your voice, and you almost physically wince at his red shot eyes.

Oliver huffs out a laugh. “He’s lost it now. Not sure if money can fix that problem.” You slap him in the shoulder, earning a dramatic flinch from the man, before you hush him into the nearest backroom.

Whatever the hell was going on with Reo won’t end well with Oliver spiting out remark after remark over and over again.

“You better stay here, I’ll talk to him.” Raising your eyebrow at his scoff, you eye him. “Girl please. You think I’ll leave you alone in a room with that psycho?”

“Yes, I think you will. Now let go off me before I slap the sass out of you, dickhead.”

Admitting defeat, he lets go of your shoulder, a worried expression causing you to soften before you turn on your heels to confront the big Elephant in the room. “Don’t worry,” you try to reassure him, “it’ll be fine.”

As you step into the room, his purple orbs are already fixated on you, awaiting your next move. It’s been a while since you both last talked, going separate ways in a fight, for that matter.

Guilt washes over him as his sulks in his seat, averting his gaze from yours with his head hanging low at the table, finger circling around an empty glass, trying to distract himself from looking at you.

"Giving me the silent treatment?" You laugh, seating yourself next to the man, his gaze wandering around the wooden platform.

Suddenly, a laugh rang from the young man, startling you. Oh yeah, he's going insane.

"I don't know what's more funny", he begins, head lifting as his laugh dies down, hand swiftly wiping across his face before he continues, "the fact that you dare to fuck around in here, in my club, with my employees, or that I'm such a damned fool."

You gulp, brows crinkling in confusion. You don't know Reo for long, but you know him long enough to be conscious of his behavior. But this, even this, caught you off guard. "W-what are you talking about?"

His eyes are furious, teeth gritted together with his hands formed into concrete fists. It's downright impossible to predict his next move. Are you scared? Yeah. Should you've listened to Oliver? Hell yeah. But there is no way to change your decision now, so you might as well stand with it.

"You know what I'm fuckin' talking about." he points his finger at you, and his quick movement caused you to flinch slightly. It's your turn to spit back at him. "Watch your tongue now. If you don't get your shit together right fucking now, I'll go home."

"You'll go home? Home to my apartment, that I bought you, you mean?" Another loud chortle echoes to the room, alarming Oliver in the backroom. Something ain't right. Oliver is quick to storm right into the action, catching the eye of you both in an instant.

The room grows quiet, except from Reo's light chuckle. And in the next second, another glass lands shattered, now right at the feet of Oliver. Before the young boxer can even register the storm building up inside of him, Reo was quick to follow his action with a set of two words.

“You’re fired.”

Two words was all it took to tear the floor right from Oliver's feet, causing him to fall back into his old life again. Just like that. The world is cruel. Even more cruel at the hands of Reo Mikage.

"Pack your shit and get your pathetic ass out of here."

Being a billionaire isn't all just peace, joy and pancakes. It changes people. It changed him. Even if he doesn't realize it, he's slowly becoming the person he always despised.

"You know, Reo", he butts in a breathy chuckle, his multicolored eyes staring holes into the young billionaires face, "you look just like your father."

Red. The only color to describe the thing Reo sees right now, as he jumps up from his seat, ready to thrown himself onto the man before him.

Oliver was about to dodge his punch, but you appeared before Reo just in time, attempting to tear him away from the scene. Unfortunately, he breaks loose, pushing you away with a low voiced 'Fuck off'. "What does a low life like you know about my life, huh?", he barks at the man, breath heaving in rage.

As he was about to go completely insane, a familiar figure was quick to handle the situation, big, broad shoulders guiding Reo away from Oliver and out of the room into the direction of the apartment at the top of the facility.

Another man you fell apart in dispute, how great. Before you know it, tears begin to well up at your lash line, but you're quick to regain composure, hand swiftly wiping them away as you make your way to the basement door.

Once the tears were toweled down, you turn your head to a now leaving Oliver, biting you a quick goodbye before he heads off to the door.

"Wait." You just want to slap your face immediately at your cracked voice. Quickly clearing your throat, you continue, "if you need a place..."

You fall silent at his blank stare, lips formed into a thin line. "Don't sweat it", he responds, disappearing out into the city.

Well, now it's three, eh?

You sigh, exhausted, walking down into the secluded area in the basement, not even bothering to great anyone on your way to your working space.

As you enter your sweet escape, you slump yourself onto the leather couch, throwing your back next to you. Exhaustion washed over you as you pondered for a moment.

Was that really Reo just now? Did you ever even really knew him? And what's the matter with his father? He was seething in anger at just the mention.

"Fuck this," you whisper to yourself, ripping yourself out of your train of thought, a quick glance at the clock causing you to sigh. 3 more hours till the first match. "For fuck's sake."

Yeah, fucks sake. Not only did Reo escort you here three hours before your shift starting, but also didn't even talk to you. Except for his massive outburst, there was nothing else to it.

But this wasn't his intention at all. He wanted to talk, he really did, apologize even. But he didn't. He messed up. Again.

"Fuck!" he kicks his foot right into the expensive car next to him, earning a scolding from the white haired male that got him out of this mess in the first place. "Nuh uh not my car."

Nagi was quick to open the back door, throw Reo inside the backseat before he disappears into the driver's seat, ready to start the engine.

Perplexed, Reo tries to spit insults at him, to no avail.

Nagi, Reo's long trusted friend, already knew how to deal with Reo. And he also knew who he was. He knows that Reo is a good man, but, his fathers way started to rub off on him, insensible to it.

Nagi starts the engine, driving the vehicle to his own home. He glances into the rearview mirror, a small smile on his face at the sight of Reo's pouty face, mumbling some incoherent words as his hands struggle to put on the seatbelt.

"Let's get you away from this mess, blow off some steam, yeah? We didn't hop on the game for a while, how does that sound?"

Reo sighs in defeat, adjusting himself to calm down, "Alright, but I gotta be back in ten. Some guy applied as sponsor of the club. "

Halting at a red light, Nagi turns his head for a moment, facing Reo. "That's good news, no?"

Reo scoffs in response, lifting his shoulders briefly, "I don't know. That guy's giving me nausea. He's up for trouble."

【☆】★【☆】

Ten o'clock. Finally. The start of your shift.

You take a deep breath in once your door opens, bracing yourself for what might come forth. In a place like this, it could be anything and anyone.

Someone who's got the wrong door, a completely beat up boxer at the brink of a coma or maybe even a worker from the top looking for, god knows what.

"Hey ma."

And sometimes, it's Shidou.

A smile creeps up your lips as he walks up to you, hand resting on your hip as he gives your forehead a quick peak. "How's it goin'?"

You sigh, shaking your head to tell him not to inquire any further, earning a confused look in return. "So? Here to dump me again" He laughs, white crowns visible. "I'm here to apologize. Didn't know it was that..", he looked around the room, searching for the right words,"heated, between you two."

Your hands play with the bottom of his shirt, averting your gaze from him. "Plus, ya seemed out of it when you came down here, figured I come see you." His words are followed with another set of kisses to your face, earning a giggle from you in return.

"So, who do I gotta beat up?", he whispers against your lips before planting a soft kiss to them. You bite your bottom lip in return, urging him to sit on the couch, your expression turning serious again.

Shidou watches you intensely as you sit down and explain every detain that he missed out on. He never interrupted you, laughed or did anything of that matter. He just listened. That's what you really needed right now, someone who would listen.

As you conclude, he nods his head in understanding, followed by a short whistle. "Damn doll. I heard about yer new place and all but, the other stuff? Tough."

"Yeah", you respond, head comfortably resting on his shoulder with his arm wrapped around you.

He sits up, looking you dead in the eye with a broad smile on his face, an idea clicking his mind. "Ya know what? Those fuckers want my head on a platter anyway. So why not stay at my place for a while? You know, blow off some steam, maybe?"

His words seemed innocent, but his low tone told you otherwise. Amused, you follow his finger trail down your thigh, caressing the flesh in a teasing manner. "All of em took you from me. But, I was first, remember?"

You nod, gaze flickering from his eyes to his broad grin, "Ya didn't forget about me, did ya?"

"'f course not", you whisper, peaking your lips at his before standing up, walking up to the door to escort him out. "I'm off at three. 'M all yours then."

He laughs at that. Impossible, that's what you are. Never has he met a woman like you, so sure and confident about herself. On top of that, a woman that could have so many men wrapped around her fingers just like that.

If Sae finds out about this, he'll surely kill him for it. Shidou may be a tease, but he's not oblivious to the fact that Sae had feelings for you. Not only was it obvious from his actions, but his words as well.

Before Shidou knew you, he actually already knew you.

To clear the confusion, Sae would often mention you to him, even if it was briefly. Sometimes, Shidou would even overhear your sweet voice on the phone with the red haired, or see your text pop on his friend's screen.

Back then when Sae told him that you, the infamous woman who had Sae wrapped around her finger, would come for a visit at Blue Lock, he had to be there. He was intrigued, not to say the least.

So switching up to fight instead of some no-name newcomer did play out well. He finally met you. And then, he understood what Sae's fuss was all about.

Friendships aside, Shidou is a simple man. He says what he wants, and he gets it. What if that something is the situationship of his friend? The demon is ready to play the all to familiar devil's game.

"Got it. See ya then, ma." He responds, giving you one last look before he walks out into the crowd of noise and light, disappearing from your sight.

【☆】★【☆】

Two more hours, you tell yourself at your nth glance at the clock, hand brushing over your hair to get ready for your next patient.

Today sure is something. First a broken arm, then an inner hemorrhage followed by a concussion. You tried your best to help them with everything in your power before sending them off to the hospital, where they could be treated with better equipment and personnel.

As you linger in the silence of your small break, you failed to notice that you left your door open with your last patient leaving.

A tall, broad figure takes a peek inside, blue hues observing your relaxed self from behind.

"Well hello there. Is this a secret VIP stripper room I didn't know of?"

You're quick to turn your head to the source with your sense in high alert, angry expression, causing him to stop his chuckle. "Not one for jokes? Excuse me."

His half-assed apology almost seemed mocking of some sorts, as he slightly bows with his hand attached to his chest, blue strands of hair appearing behind the bush of blonde, a sly smirk attached to his handsomely pale face.

"Yeah, excuse you." You scoff, shaking your head in disbelief. Probably another rich guy who's about to bet his whole fortune on a game, losing his status and prime in a blink of an eye. You're here long enough to know better.

But still, there's something so mysteriously intriguing about him that you can't point your finger on. His deep, ocean blue eyes? Or was it the hay blond hair? Or maybe the barely noticeable tattoo poking from his suit, spreading its way up his neck? "Well, who the hell are you?"

He lifts from his position, orbs prominently shining as he ranks his gaze shamelessly over your figure before halting at your face.

"I'm Kaiser. But you can call me Michael, gorgeous. Pleasure meeting you."

©︎𝙎𝘼𝙏𝙍𝙎 all rights reserved. Do NOT plagiarize, copy, modify, republish, or translate my work in any way!

[marvelousmagicalaura]

This post is gonna be part-theorycrafting, part-praise.

Leras' death in both Realms is so heartbreaking. RIP Leras, He did his best. He did what Ruin either could not or was no longer able to. He heard the thoughts of all humans. He listened to the hearts of men. Leras hoped and trusted in humanity and it paid off 😭😢💔

And I have theories on why he interacted the way he did with Kelsier and Elend. Also, reading these passages again makes me tear up.

Leras’ death in the Cognitive Realm. Leras didn’t know if the atium in the Pits of Hathsin would be burned off by the atium Mistings. He didn’t know if before the Well’s next cycle he would survive the mental decay or Ruin’s attempt to Splinter Preservation. He even disagrees with Rashek’s actions.

I theorize Leras knew three things needed to happen for the atium Mistings and The Hero of Ages to finally occur: 1) Rashek needed to die, 2) the atium in the Pits of Hathsin needed to be “destroyed,” and 3) The Shard needed to survive Ruin’s direct attacks and get to Vin. 1 is impossible without a proper rebellion (Kelsier’s persistence) and sufficient Allomantic power (Vin drawing the Mists). 2 is impossible without someone with the drive to accomplish such a ballsy move. 3 is tricky because Leras’ mind is so frayed, so he likely needed a middleman to pass the Shard onto Vin.

I think Leras saw into the future at some point, and came to the conclusion that Kelsier might be the person for the job. So in Kelsier’s darkest moment - on the night of Mare’s death - he Snapped Kelsier and commanded him to Survive. Maybe gave him metal reserves to burn. I think Leras deliberately bestowed the power of Allomancy to Kelsier and inspired him to escape the Pits; to become the Survivor of Hathsin and fulfill the next steps of the plan. Much like how Kelsier himself told Spook to Hope and keep moving, or commanded him to Survive, or brought him into a vision. Kelsier did all that to accomplish a precognitive plan to encourage Marsh to rip out Vin’s earring; thus allowing Vin to take up the Mists and Shard.

I think Leras pulled the same con on Kelsier, but on a grander scale.

Whatever the reason, Kelsier felt the end like a long, drawn-out sigh. It sent a chill up his spine, and he scrambled to find a thread of Preservation. They had been all over the ground earlier in his trip, but now he found nothing. “Fuzz!” he screamed. “Preservation!” Kelsier… The voice vibrated through him. Goodbye. “Hell, Fuzz,” Kelsier said, searching the sky. “I’m sorry. I…” He swallowed. Odd, the voice said. After all these years appearing for others as they died, I never expected… that my own passing would be so cold and lonely… “I’m here for you,” Kelsier said. No. You weren’t. Kelsier, he’s splitting my power. He’s breaking it apart. It will be gone… Splintered… He’ll destroy it. “Like hell he will,” Kelsier said, dropping his pack. He reached inside, gripping the glowing orb filled with liquid. It’s not for you, Kelsier, Preservation said. It’s not yours. It belongs to another. “I’ll get it to her,” Kelsier said, taking up the sphere. He drew in a deep breath, then used Nazh’s knife to smash the orb, spraying his arm and body with the glowing liquid. Lines like threads burst out from him. Glowing, effulgent. Like the “lines from burning steel or iron, except they pointed at everything. Kelsier! Preservation said, his voice strengthening. Do better than you have before! They called you their god, and you were casual with their faith! The hearts of men are NOT YOUR TOYS. “I…” Kelsier licked his lips. “I understand. My Lord.“ “Do better, Kelsier, Preservation commanded, his voice fading. If the end comes, get them below ground. It might help. And remember… remember what I told you, so long ago… Do what I cannot, Kelsier… SURVIVE. The word vibrated through him, and Kelsier gasped. He knew that feeling, remembered that exact command. He’d heard that voice in the Pits. Waking him, driving him forward. Saving him. Kelsier bowed his head as he felt Preservation fade, finally, and stretch into the darkness.

Preservation’s death in the Physical Realm. This is much simpler, I think.

I think he probably wanted to give Elend hints of his plan for the atium Mistings. I think he was pointing northeast to an area near Luthadel - the Pits of Hathsin and the Homeland. The waves he gave for the questions on the mists and the pointing to Elend’s metals… Leras was giving hints that the Mists were Snapping people into Allomancers.

His final, hesitant wave. The sign that beating Ruin and surviving is a tiny possibility.

The mist spirit evaporating… that’s the Survivor taking up the power to give to the Ascendant Warrior. Preventing the power from being Splintered. Freeing the god’s frayed mind from its timeless burden.

The creature fell still. It was getting harder and harder to see it in the mists. Elend flared his tin, but that didn’t make the creature any more distinct. It seemed to be… fading. “Where was it you wanted me to go?” Elend asked, more for himself than expecting an answer. “You pointed… east? Did you want me to go back to Luthadel?” It waved with half-enthusiasm again. “Do you want me to attack Fadrex City?” It stood still. “Do you not want me to attack Fadrex City?” It waved vigorously. Interesting, he thought. “The mists,” Elend said. “They’re connected to all this, aren’t they?” Waving. “They’re killing my men,” Elend said. It stepped forward, then stood still, somehow looking urgent. Elend frowned. “You reacted to that. You mean to say they aren’t killing my men?” It waved. “That’s ridiculous. I’ve seen the men fall dead.” It stepped forward, pointing at Elend. He glanced down at his sash. “The coins?” he asked, looking up. It pointed again. Elend reached into his sash. All that was there were his metal vials. He pulled one out. “Metals?” It waved vigorously. It just continued to wave and wave. Elend looked down at the vial. “I don’t understand.” The creature fell still. It was getting more and more vague, as if it were evaporating. “Wait!” Elend said, stepping forward. “I have another question. One more before you go!” It stared him in the eyes. “Can we beat it?” Elend asked softly. “Can we survive?” Stillness. Then, the creature waved just briefly. Not a vigorous wave—more of a hesitant one. An uncertain one. It evaporated, maintaining that same wave, the mists becoming indistinct and leaving no sign that the creature had been there. … I don’t know why Preservation decided to use his last bit of life appearing to Elend during his trek back to Fadrex. From what I understand, Elend didn’t really learn that much from the meeting. By then, of course, Preservation was but a shadow of himself—and that shadow was under immense destructive pressure from Ruin. Perhaps Preservation—or, the remnants of what he had been—wanted to get Elend alone. Or, perhaps he saw Elend kneeling in that field, and knew that the emperor of men was very close to just lying down in the ash, never to rise again. Either way, Preservation did appear, and in doing so exposed himself to Ruin’s attacks. Gone were the days when Preservation could turn away an Inquisitor with a bare gesture, gone—even—were the days when he could strike a man down to bleed and die. By the time Elend saw the “mist spirit,” Preservation must have been barely coherent. I wonder what Elend would have done, had he known that he was in the presence of a dying god—that on that night, he had been the last witness of Preservation’s passing. If Elend had waited just a few more minutes on that ashen field, he would have seen a body—short of stature, black hair, prominent nose—fall from the mists and slump dead into the ash. As it was, the corpse was left alone to be buried in ash. The world was dying. Its gods had to die with it.

However, putting these plans into motion isn’t the same as knowing they’ll come true. Leras probably didn’t know if Kelsier would succeed in destroying the Pits’ atium or in giving the Shard to Vin. He certainly didn’t know if Elend would succeed in leading the atium Mistings to the Homeland.

Futuresight in the Cosmere, or at least the Hail Marys and fragile distant possibilities in Leras’ plan, seem to be split into maybes because of free will. If the figures in The Plan made the “wrong” decisions, made different decisions, or lost hope in the world, Ruin would’ve easily won. Their “right” decisions required them to just… live their lives. If Rashek, Vin, and Sazed living different lives meant their Connections to the Shards might’ve been completely different from what we know. Different Connections meant they couldn't hold the powers Leras wanted them to.

Leras listened the hearts of men, gave them nudges and tools, and hoped for the best outcomes.

[velichorus-k]

Ranting about animation and gushing about trolls under the cut. Dont mind me I love sharing opinions nobody asked for on the internet

We all talk about the 'spiderverse artstyle/clones' blah blah I won't get into how much I hate that term. But while we're on the unique animation bandwagon. I think what Disney got so so wrong with Wish (haven't seen it yet, just speaking of the artstyle) is like, yeah, they were clearly going for 'storybook' in some aspects, but rather than make it more textured-- like, I would expect pastels and watercolours for something along those lines-- maybe even something reminiscent of the hella-lined-and-textured ink illustrations that appear in classic fairytale collections like Andrew Lang's Fairy Books-- they make everything feel flat, with a blend of 2d and 3d that... doesn't really work. They were so close to GETTING it, to making an artstyle that fit their story, but this is the only movie in the recent age where I feel 'spider-verse clone' COULD (not would, could) fit; they didn't quite get it. The only thing I really love from what I've seen is that some of the plants have like? A pop-up storybook effect?? That's enough about that. I do love the masterful compositions of Spider-verse, but in terms of actual art, TMNT takes the cake for me in the 'animation revolution' sphere. The grime and grit of New York sewerboys! The comic-book and hand-drawn feel! Beautiful, and a perfect artstyle for the turtles. Puss in Boots didn't capture my attention quite as much artstyle-wise (though the art was gorgeous, still), but it still does have that painted feel they were going for and that fits storybook characters (cough cough, Wish). I bring this all up because of my most recent 'unique animation' obsession, Trolls. Surprise! Another excellent example of an artstyle that upholds the overall feel of its story. I noticed this in the first movie, but I only really started to look closely after now seeing the sequels, so excuse me while I gush a bit. Immediate love for letting Poppy, a very girly character, have small eyes and a big nose rather than the typical babyface look of female disney protags. Though, Dreamworks was always better about this. I love the fuzz and crochet textures on everything. Even the little earrings on the pop trolls, something you might expect to have a metal or plastic texture, has fuzz on it! The water that floods Rhonda in the third movie is made up of those little plastic orb things (the name escapes me)! They all look like they're made out of felt, which is absolutely perfect for the scrapbooking/toy theme they've got going on. They're little creatures! And we get to see a whole bunch of different textures when we see the other species in the sequels. I want to stare at the textures all day. UGH SO GOOD

[venusiananthology]

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚La délivrance˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

Aphrodite, Cytherea, Cyprogenes, Urania, Areia. These are the names that they call me, the beautiful men and women that surrounded me when I arose from the ocean. I am told that for years I was a small pearl, and then a very large pearl, and that now I am me. Who am I? My hair is long and it is blonde, the color of the orb shining down from the blue canvas which lies above the surface on which I stand. My hair is the color of the sand, the earth on which I first stepped after leaving the rock on which I am told I called home for twenty years.

The people on the beach celebrate my arrival. I watch them from the rock, and as my head turns, they whoop and cheer, and I smile a full grin in return. Unlike my initial welcomers, they are small, and they seem flawed. On the inside that is, they have these flaws which I can almost reach into with an invisible hand and read like a scroll. Wait, what is a scroll? I seem to have this inner knowledge of things that I have not yet encountered. My mind tells me that a scroll is a form of written language and that it is made of papyrus. What is papyrus? Oh, I have so many questions it seems.

My skin is very similar to the large men and women that I encounter on the rock and the small men and women I see on the beach. It is of a tan olive tone and it is freckled, almost as if I had been lying in the sun for many an hour, allowing it to give me kisses that formed the freckles. When I noted this to the men and women on the rock, a floating man with a crown of light looked as if he was blushing. It seems as though these freckles on my body are indeed some sort of a kiss, if I am deducing correctly. When I noted this in my brain, that the man seemed to blush, a woman next to him floating on a cloud hit him on the shoulder. Jealousy, a concept I am sure I will encounter in the future.

When I look down I see two large lumps on my chest peaked by two pink flower-like buds. I lift them up to see below them and my sight catches two thick legs with wide calves under a stomach which hangs slightly over them. My belly is pudgy and smooth to the touch, with soft, blonde peach-fuzz like hair growing on top of it. I reach below my stomach and above my legs to see what lies there in the space between them, and my eyes alight with shock. That is when the three graces who helped me out of the oyster laughed and placed on me a white silken robe and instructed me that I should only consider the area that I had just discovered when in the privacy of my own company, or of someone I loved very much.

Love. I hear the word and am immediately enamored with the concept. I may not yet have experienced much, but this I know: Love is the fated, the prophesied, the always-will-happen magnetization of two beings that creates fire and sparks and consumes entire cities in its search for inspiration. I seem to have some control over this concept of love, as I can feel the connections between the people around me. The grandest of what I am told are the gods stand before me and I feel a warmth radiating between them, like nothing in creation could separate them from one another, like nothing could stand between them and live to tell the tale.

The man is old and he is gray, but he is strong. He is curly haired and his cheeks are incredibly sculpted. I sense in his eyes a grim duty, it seems as though he has suffered much in the past and lived through many stories. I look into his eyes and scenes flash before me and I feel that I am him, birth in a cave to an earth goddess mother, blood splashing before me as my siblings are thrown from my fathers stomach, marriage to my sister-bride, goddess of the ceremony. And then suddenly the visions end, and I am smitten with the man. My face forms into a small grin as I stand before him, and suddenly the woman to his side forcibly introduces herself as Hera, queen of the gods. I am suddenly taken back to reality and put in my place, and my feelings for the supreme god are completely stifled.

The woman is my height, about nine feet tall, and her skin is olive but there are no freckles about it. She is completely smooth like porcelain and her body is slender, very much unlike mine which has curves and rolls all about it. It seems as though the man with the sun on his head knows not to place any kisses on the body of Hera. She then introduces her husband as Zeus, king of the sky and bringer of lightning and thunder. They both tell me that they are to be my care-takers in this world, and that I am for all intents and purposes their daughter.

I am taken aback once again, for I did not think I was to have a family, but it seems as though the gods before me, the large squabbling family full of intrigue and drama and scandal are to be those that I call mine. The graces bow before me, one blonde, one brunette, and one ginger. They tell me that all shall call me Aphrodite, goddess of beauty, love, and desire. They gift me with a beautiful golden belt and inform me that it will cause all who see me to adore me with a sweet passion, that all will consider me to be like jam on the lips, like lotion and oil rubbed onto the skin, like a flower in a meadow that they feel their own soul within, reflecting, like a pearlescent mirror. I smile with glee, I am to be she of love and beauty.

The graces take me by the hands and lead me down stairs carved into the side of the rock and I stand on the last one before glancing down at the ocean before me. I look at them and ask, am I to swim? They laugh cheerfully and explain that no, swimming is for the little people on the shore, and that I am not one of the little people, I am one of the big people. I take a step into the water, and to my surprise, my feet walk on top of it as though it is a solid surface. I begin to walk across the surface, but I am too happy to walk! I break into a sprint and somersault across the ocean before reaching the shore. The people gather around me and cry out in joy, for their goddess has arrived and she has in her heart a love for them which nothing could stifle.

I reach down and hug any whose arms offer embrace. I am offered figs and pomegranates and grapes and I eat of them like a starving dog. I am starving! I have never eaten before! As the juice drips down my face it lands into the sand and from the sand flowers protrude between the grains. I look behind me and see that the earth where I walked has also sprouted luscious flora. I feel in my bones because of the flowers that not only am I she of love and desire, but I am she of fertility. I shall be there to grace the winds when a child is placed into the womb of their mother, I shall be the whisper in the trees when said child is delivered to their eager family. I shall be there.

The graces follow behind me, giggling like children, and get my attention. They tell me that it is time to go to my new home on a mount called Olympus where I will be paraded like a trophy among the gods of this earth and that I will find my place among them as the newest daughter of Zeus and Hera. The rest of the gods follow behind us in a line of splendor and awe, the people on the beach look to their divine creators and some faint with the joy of a believer. The graces once again take me by the hand and lead me to my place within the procession of the immortals. We stand on the beach and my feet begin to feel light as fog forms beneath all of us, the gods. Suddenly the fog stretches out like a large yawn and overtakes us. I float upward and find myself in a throne made of clouds on a surface of clouds where all the gods sit on their respective thrones.

I am grouped with the graces, who I now assume are my ladies in waiting, as their thrones are smaller than mine but still stately and worthy of an immortal. A white bird flies out of nowhere to my side and chirps a melodious tune. My hand reaches out to touch the bird, and it flies up to land on my finger. I call this bird dove, my dove. I sense that it is mine. I look to the front of the cloud and see Zeus and Hera sitting upon their thrones, each holding the hand of the other as the cloud takes off into the sky. On the fist of Zeus sits a bird much larger than mine with a razorous beak and a head of white feathers but a body of gray. Its eyes flicker to me and I am scared by it. I must look away.

Behind the throne of Zeus lies a large beast of brown fur and two large horns. It is called a bull, as I am told by the man sitting to my right when he notices me staring at it. He looks at me and licks his lips, he is nine foot tall like myself and has a statuesque body that is oiled and laden with scars from what I can only assume are the fiercest of battles. His hair is long and braided and the darkest of blacks, it lays to the side over his shoulder and falls onto his chest. Oh. His chest. His pecks are like marble and they lie above a stomach of abs. This man has no woman to his side, and I feel that I am allowed to be smitten with this one. I ask him jokingly while pointing to his figure if he’d like to see my stomach too, and he replies with a smirk that he’s seen much, much more. I can’t help but blush the same way Helius did when I hear him say that.

The cloud finally arrives on the misty peaks of a mountain with a trail leading up. One by one, the gods get up from their thrones as the cloud pushes into the side of the mountain and dissipates as the immortals begin their ascent to the peak. I hear a melody enveloping the group as nine nymphs, I am told they are called the muses, start to encircle the procession and sing a song about the day that Aphrodite was born. I am brought to tears by the sheer beauty of the epic tune which describes me and the day that I emerged from the oyster. The graces take me by the hands once more and lead me up the mountain, explaining that I am too delicate to walk up the winding path on my own, but then I remember that I am also Areia, and insist I go on my own. The graces comply.

I look around me as I walk on and watch as the grass at the bottom of the peak of Olympus grows into trees and shrubbery and flowers and lakes and rivers. Within the green and blue I make out nymphs, Oreads, the spirits of this mountain. They are playing in the water and chasing one another amongst the branches. I see them cackle at one another's jokes and kiss like lovers. Suddenly one of the nymphs jumps from the forestry and runs through the procession, and behind her is a man with ovine legs pursuing her passionately. He calls out to her like they are in a lovers quarrel, and before my eyes the nymph stands in place and sprouts roots and a trunk and turns into a tree! Oh what a glorious land this is that I stand on!

We reach a clearing, and sitting in this clearing is a large palace of marble, it reminds me of the man I sat next to on the throne of clouds, large and proud. The procession continues into the palace, and I look around to see the space decorated with rugs of oriental nature depicting on them great battles and meetings of lovers and the emergence of gods. There are potted plants everywhere, and on their urns, I see similar paintings. There are shelves carved into every wall and within them I see scientific devices of all shapes and sizes, I also see scrolls which I assume have knowledge only the eyes of immortals are made to see. Incense burns in every corner attended by nymphs and they all look to the procession to watch me in veneration.

Zeus and Hera glance back at me as I look around at all the nymphs with love radiating from my heart, and they beam at me with the loving embrace of parents watching their newborn come home for the very first time. The man from the cloud comes up behind me and places a hand on my waist as he speaks. He says that this is all for me, and refers to me in name as beautiful. We converse as we walk on into the main auditorium where the court lines into a half circle. Zeus and Hera walk onto the stage and begin a speech.

I look around myself and observe the rest of my family fully for the very first time. The first person to catch my eye is a  woman of my height, so I can only assume she is another of the greater gods. She has long brown hair and stands in a full suit of armor carrying a large spear. I feel a sudden pain in my forehead as I look upon her and notice a scar on the forehead of Zeus. Her eyes are deep set and the color of the ocean, her nose is slender and has a peak in the center, almost as if a sylvan hill of green sits upon her face. She is as beautiful as any goddess. Thalia, the ginger grace, tells me her name is Athena.

On the other end of the court, I see a pair of twins who look exactly alike, the only thing separating their appearance being gender. They have the same young, impish features of almond eyes and thick cupid’s-bow-like lips. The man has a crown of light smaller than that of Helius but still blindingly radiant. The woman has a small glowing crescent which floats above her head. Euphrosyne sees my curious stare and notes that they are the day and night dualities called Apollo and Artemis. Artemis’s imposing body causes a reaction of warmth in my own, but I look to her side and am disappointed. A lesser goddess standing at seven feet tall is at her side and holds her by the hand. Another pair in which I am unwelcome.

I listen to Zeus for a while addressing the procession but my curiosity again takes my attention away. Standing next to Athena is a woman who looks just like Hera except her features are rounder than Hera’s striking avian features. Her chestnut hair is twisted up into a bun and she wears a green toga fitted to her waist with a rope that hangs down her legs. Aglaea, standing at seven feet tall like her sisters, tugs me by the robe and I look down. She whispers to me that the woman I am looking at is called Demeter. Holding Demeter’s hand is a man that the man on the clouds tells me is called Poseidon. He wears blue and his long beard of white trickles into water that dissipates into fog before it hits the ground.

At the back of the procession is a dark and brooding man wearing black that nobody will tell me the name of. Finally, the man on the clouds places his chin on my shoulder and murmurs softly into my ear that his name is Ares. Suddenly I hear my name from the mouth of Zeus, and my attention is caught. He announces that because so many have already offered their hand in marriage to me, he shall be the one to decide who I am to be in matrimony with. I lower my eyes in disappointment. I was just born today and already I am to be bound to one man. I feel my eyes swell with tears as a man walks from behind Zeus, ugliest of the gods. He wears a beige toga and holds a large hammer in his hand. I am not excited for the announcement I expect to come.

Zeus reveals to the court to the return of gasps and awes that my husband is to be Hephaestus, god of the blacksmiths. Hera reaches her hand out for me, nodding her head, and I walk forward as the eyes of the procession watch me. I see the envy of all the men following my figure as I continue onward onto the stage where I am to be married and sent to my bedchambers like a cow to the slaughter. Ares looks at me with a melancholy gaze and I sense in him a similar disappointment, as it would seem our places next to each other on the clouds was a cruel joke meant to fool me into thinking I was to be his. I could have accepted being his. But this man before me on the stage, I cannot accept being his. I stare into his eyes, and I see nothing but a passion for his work, a passion for his craft. It is as if he is the only man unaffected by me, as his heart has already been won over by another.

[bloodyarn]

                          ✱ 𝐋𝐄𝐓𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐒 .

                           Babette's Birthday

 ▌ Well, of course he had to buy some sweets for Babette's birthday. Lots of them. That went without saying. Cinnamon rolls, cookies, little cakes, all neatly placed in a basket with a light pink bow on the handle.  But he couldn't only bring the sweets. Those were treats. Not really a gift on their own. No, no, they would not do on their own. He needed something else, too. Bone jewelry would not make the cut, unfortunately. ( That was always his go-to, but truly the last thing he wanted was to make her pass out from fright. )    Instead, he took a different approach. Recalling the delight with which she accepted his previous gift, Puck visited a nearby boutique & picked out a dress he thought ⸻ he hoped ⸻ she'd like. With summer on the horizon, he thought a sundress might be good. Babette's clothes, in all their modesty, seemed like they would be uncomfortable in the heat. And she would look very darling in a sundress. Hopefully the cut of it wasn't too outside her comfort zone. Maybe she could just wear it in front of him. The dress all carefully wrapped in a box, Puck set it & the basket of treats down on the picnic blanket he'd laid out in the grass for the two of them. ❝ I may have gone overboard with the number of sweets I stuffed in there . . . ❞ Puck smiles. ❝ But you are so very easy to spoil. As for the gift, I- uh . . . hope it fits. I think I got the measurements right. If not, they said they could make adjustments to it. So, no need for you to exert yourself for your own present, all right ？❞    「 @bloodtwin 」

       She  was  used  to  a  grand  event.      At  least  in  her  family  circles.  Always  pomp   &   with  the  whole  family  tree  somehow  finding  their  way  to  Baldur's  Gate,  despite  being  sprawled  out  the  whole  coast.  The  fey  was  not  her  mother's  favorite  child,  but  parties  were  more  of  a  statement  than  a  true  time  to  appreciate  one  being  alive.

It  was  different  now  ;  with  only  a  few  people,  the  small  group  they  travelled  with  hardly  a  match  to  the  visitors  in  the  past  years.  It  was  strangely  comfortable, though   —   not  having  to  stress  about  plans   &   things  that  could  go  wrong.  Was  the  cake  big  enough,  was  there  enough  wine  for  everyone  ;  not  the  concerns  of  the  day.  Only  a  blanket,  sweets,  most  adequate  company.

    Their  friends  congratulated  her  already  today,  even  Lae'Zel   —   to  Babette's  surprise   —   who  still  tried  to  figure  out  the  fuzz  that  was  the  tradition  of  a  birthday  on  this  plane.

The  sun  called  for  a  private  moment  between  the  two  lovebirds.  She  let  him  know  how  much  she  appreciated  the  picnic  idea,  voicing  her  approval  every  other  minute.  Praise  came  easy  with  Puck.     ❝ You  shouldn't  have  to. ❞        At  the  same  time,  the  seamstress  was  glad  he  took  her  comfort  in  consideration.  He  did  things  right,  and  Babette  was  eager  to  let  him  know  exactly  that.

Slowly,  for  they  had  the  spare  time  right  now,  the  hexblood  opened  the  gift,  eyes  met  with  soft  rose  hues  ;  even  softer  fabric  when  she  pulled  the  dress  out  of  the  box.  Wine-red  orbs  seemed  to  sparkle  noticeably.       ❝  Oh,  you  are  crazy,  Pucky  .  .  .  thank  you    ! ❞      A  breath  which  hardly  concealed  the  surprised  chuckle.       ❝  That  is  radiant    !    Where  did  you  find  that    ? ❞      The  ranger  was  an  enigma  sometimes.  Didn't  look  like  he  truly  understood  a  lady's  tastes.  But  how  wrong  he  would  prove  it  time   &   time  again.

     ❝ You  are  the  sweetest.  How  did  you  know  I  liked  that  color    ? ❞       Really  now    ?    It's  not  like  she  wore  anything  other  than  .  .  .  anyway.  When  the  look-over  was  finished,  the  attire  still  grasped  in  her  small  hands,  Babette  nudged  her  forehead  gently  against  the  bhaalspawn's  chin.  What  a  kitten.  Smiling  lips  graced  pale  skin,  first  cheek,  jaw,  ending  their  journey  on  painted  lips  with  familiarity.

       ❝  It  does  look  like  it  would  fit  well,  from  a  seamstress'  professional  opinion. ❞      A  giggle,       ❝  I  will  try  it  on  after  we  are  done  here  ;  if  you  would  accompany  me    ?  .  .  . ❞      Cheeky  little  thing,  letting  it  look  innocent.  The  scandalous  view  of  her  naked  shoulders  that  was  to  come  always  in  the  back  of  her  mind.  It's  her  birthday.  She  can  be  a  little  naughty.